


A Little Sweet and Simple

by sugarboat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Bill is basically Kero, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarboat/pseuds/sugarboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since the Mystery Trio arrived in Gravity Falls, and they're still no closer to finding the source of its inherent weirdness - or any proof of its weirdity at all. Until one day, Ford discovers a mysterious carving in a cave.</p><p>"I thought a COSTUME CHANGE might be FUN! You know, make this moment REALLY special! Even your GLASSES look cooler!” Cooler? Oh god, Ford did not want to see his face right now. “I LIKE IT, Sixer! Those BOOTS really EMPHASIZE your CALVES!” Ford wanted to die. “Okay, okay, I’m getting the feeling you don’t LIKE IT, but we’ll have to time to TALK SHOP later! Right now you might wanna deal with THAT GUY!”</p><p>In other words, it's a Magical Girl Ford AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Sweet and Simple

“Fidds! Stanley! Hurry, we must be getting close!” Ford shouted over his shoulder. He was almost breathless from exertion, but nothing could slow his pace or dampen the triumphant feeling burning in his chest. Or maybe that was just the lack of oxygen – it felt like they had been running for miles now, chasing down this thing.

Speak of the devil, a deep grumbling echoed from somewhere above and before him, hidden away in the thick leaves of the canopy. The sharp snapping of splintering wood was all the warning Ford got before jagged pieces of a great tree were raining down all around him. He covered his head with an arm, wincing, but he didn’t falter. Couldn’t afford to stop even for a moment. It – whatever it was – wasn’t going to get away. Not this time.

“Ford! Slow down!”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, numbnuts!”

Ford didn’t bother to answer them – didn’t they understand? This was finally their chance! Weeks of tracking its movements, dealing with the wreckage it left behind, and most importantly, weeks of it slipping out of their grasps. They hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of the damn thing! Just thinking about it had him gritting his teeth, hands clenched tight into fists.

At least their plan was working. He, Fiddleford, and Stanley had managed to herd it away from the city proper, out into the woods. Even if he couldn’t see it, the crashes left in the monster’s wake were heading directly towards the clearing, where Ford had spent the better part of the night laying out various traps. Judging by the size of the claw marks and the amount of damage it could inflict, whatever kind of beast this was had to be large. 

There was a tremendous roar from ahead, loud enough to send flocks of birds fleeing into the tranquil blue sky, deep enough that it rumbled around in Ford’s ribcage, shook him to his spine. He grinned in response. It must have stumbled into one of their snares! The trees were thinning out, the light becoming brighter, no longer tinged green from the overhanging leaves. All at once he burst into the clearing, a victorious grin stretching his face. 

This was it, what they had been searching for – perhaps not the source of Gravity Falls’ weirdness, but at long last, some solid proof of it! Ford had expected the monster to fill the entire glade; it was at least tall enough to score the tops of the trees, after all. Yet, he saw… nothing. There were multiple traps disarmed, some even laying warped and twisted far from where he had set them. But no monster. Ford couldn’t even hear it anymore. His eyes searched the enclosing trees, desperate for some sign of movement.

Nothing. It was like the creature had vanished entirely. A heavy wave of anger, frustration, and disappointment welled up in Ford’s chest, but he crushed it down ruthlessly. Now wasn’t the time; he had to think analytically. Even if the monster was gone now, it must have left something behind. He knelt down to examine the nearest snare, hoping to find some clue in the way the creature had rent the metal. 

A few moments later Fiddleford came crashing out of the woods, followed closer by Ford’s brother, holding his side and gasping for breath. 

“Wh-where’d it go, Poindexter?” Stan said in between gasps, hunched over with his hands on his knees. When had his twin gotten so thoroughly out of shape? Ford just shook his head in reply.

“I don’t know, Stanley.”

“It just got away?” 

“Not ‘just,’” Ford replied, shaking the mangled trap in the air. Fiddleford came closer, crouching down next to him and pushing his glasses further up his nose. Patches of dirt were smeared on his cheeks, tiny scratches across his skin from rushing through the unkempt underbrush. Ford handed the twisted metal over to him, plucked a leaf from the other man’s tangled hair as Fidds began turning the object over, examining it in detail.

“Well it certainly got sprang; no blood or fluid of any kind left behind, huh?” 

“Not that I’ve been able to spot, no.” There was a loud clanging and clattering from the other side of the clearing, where Stan had roughly kicked one of the larger traps. And then colorful cursing, as he hopped around on one foot, holding the one he’d used to drop-kick literal steel and iron. Ford sighed and rolled his eyes. “Stanley-”

“That’s just great!” his twin shouted, setting his foot down in favor of throwing his arms up in the air. “We’ve been out here for months – months! – with nothing to show for it!” 

“These things take _time_ -”

“What! What! You gonna tell me to be patient again? Just admit it, Ford, we’re no closer to solving anything than we were the day we rolled into this jerkwater town!” 

Ford jumped to his feet, marching over to his brother. Thoroughly unintimidated, Stanley held his ground, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Ford as his twin got up in his face. “This is the closest we’ve come yet, Stanley!”

“Yeah! And what do we have to show for it! A big, fat, steaming pile of nothing!” Stan barked. Fiddleford came rushing over, throwing himself between the siblings, shoving at them in an effort to separate them. Neither of them budged even an inch.

“Guys! Let’s just, let’s just cool it, okay?” he suggested. “We’re all disappointed, Stan, but that doesn’t mean this has been a total waste.” 

“You’re just taking his side, like always!” 

“There’s no sides here, Stanley, we’re all on the same side,” Fidds said. His tone only seemed throwing fuel on the open fire of Stan’s temper.

“Oh really? Cause it seems to _me_ that you two _nerds_ are always sticking together, always leaving me out of the loop!”

“It’s hardly _our_ fault if you can’t keep up with the conversation, Stanley!” Stan visibly bristled at his twin’s words.

“Can’t- can’t keep up?! Why you smarmy little-”

“Stanford, Stanley, that’s enough!” Fiddleford pleaded, still struggling in vain to push them apart. He fell to the side as Stan abruptly turned and walked away, Ford’s hand darting out to grab his arm and steady him.

“Forget it! I’m heading back to the shack!”

Ford and Fidds both stood unmoving, watching Stanley’s retreating form as he waded back into the woods, eliciting a soft, steady stream of curses. Well, that was Stanley for you; always making everything about himself. They were all frustrated, obviously – at the lack of progress they’d made, at the disappointing results of their current ploy. But Stan was the only one who made it personal, the only one who wanted to throw around blame. Why had he even come here?

For some reason, the thought stuck in Ford’s mind. Why _was_ Stanley here? He wasn’t supposed to be here… was he? And Fiddleford, he shouldn’t be here either. At his side, Fidds cleared his throat, and Ford flushed, realizing he still had a death grip on his friend’s arm. He let go immediately, self-consciously pulling his hands together. 

“Well… I guess we better gather up these traps then, huh?” Fiddleford offered, rubbing the area Ford had been holding onto. “For further, uh, analysis?” 

“Yes, yes… good idea, Fidds.” Ford scratched the back of his head. “Uh, would you mind…?” He gestured vaguely at the clearing. “I’d like some time to think.”

“O-oh, yeah, I mean, no, I don’t mind, Ford!” Fidds eyed his friend warily, almost cautiously. He opened to his mouth to say more, but closed it again just as quickly. Ford was already walking away, deeper into the woods, clearly lost in thought. With a sigh, Fiddleford hunched over, began picking up the bent remains of the traps.

The reaching branches and tangling under root were no match for Ford as he marched steadily into the forest. First the monster, then Stanley; this day had been nothing but disappointment after bitter disappointment. How could it have gotten away? Surely the creature had been injured, having set off multiple traps designed to capture and ensnare it. Ford had heard its bellowing cry – even if it had been able to tear itself free, he should have been able to catch a glimpse of it. At the very least, it should have left behind some sign of a struggle – fur, scales, blood – anything.

It just didn’t make any sense. 

Slowly, Ford came to a stop. With the adrenaline from the chase and subsequent argument fading, he could feel how sore his muscles were, how his chest burned from exertion. Having spent so much time mapping these woods in search of their inherent weirdness, Ford hadn’t been overly concerned with which direction he took, but now he came to the startling realization that he wasn’t entirely certain where he was. The trees surrounding him were all thinner than normal, with pale, gnarled bark and spotted with whirling eye-like knots. He touched the one closest to him, running his fingers over the rough surface and feeling strangely nostalgic.

Heh, nostalgic. In a part of the woods he’d never been before. Ford shook his head. Well, he might as well make the most of it. He continued on, this time taking more note of the environment around him. It almost felt like an entirely different wood; the trees here were like no other. They gave him the eerie feeling of being watched. And, he noticed, there was the barest slope to the ground, leaping him slightly downwards.

Abruptly, it seemed, he spotted a cavern entrance, nestled amongst overgrown bushes in a jutting pile of rocks. Ford paused. This all seemed so familiar, and so wrong. Where was he? How had he never stumbled upon this place before? Despite his own misgivings, he was eager to explore the cave’s dark depths, found himself itching to plunge into a new mystery. It was hardly a good idea, however. He had only the vaguest idea of how to get back to the shack, and the day had already taken its toll, his tired muscles straining.

He took off his glasses, absentmindedly cleaning them with his shirt. One short look couldn’t hurt. He didn’t have to go deep into the cavern. Ford replaced his glasses, took to rummaging through his coat pockets. Flashlight, flashlight… he was sure he’d packed one. Ah ha! There it was. Torch safely in hand, the explorer cautiously edged into the cave, clicking the light on just a few steps in. He swept its ray across the entrance way, frowning as he saw the passage leading deeper in, curving downwards and towards the right. It wouldn’t do to go too far in now.

But then, something caught his eye. On the far wall, some etching into the stone that looked too organized, too purposeful to be anything other than manmade. Writing? The excitement of discovery seemed to revitalize him, made Ford forget about any pretenses of not thoroughly examining this new area. Briefly, a guilty flash of Fiddleford and Stanley passed through his mind, but he was able to brush them aside. Fidds would be busy for the rest of the night – he wouldn’t need Ford’s help with any of traps he’d gathered – and this would give Stan the time he needed to cool off a little.

Not to mention, it would give Ford the same opportunity.

Doubts settled, Ford hurriedly strode over to the wall, studying the strange markings. Their appearance rang a bell in his mind, and he kept the flashlight trained on the shaky lettering as he pulled his journal out with his free hand, awkwardly flipping back towards the beginning. Yes, these were the same symbols he had found in various spots of the woods – presumably from whatever aboriginal culture had once made a home here. It took a few moments of cross referencing, but he eventually made out the long forgotten message – something about a ritual deeper inside the cavern, a source of knowledge and power.

Well, the idea was interesting, and tempting, but Ford didn’t place much belief in the superstitions of those long-since gone and buried. Nevertheless, a ritual chamber would be a new find for him – there was nothing like this contained in any of the other writings he had found. With one last glance towards the sun, Ford tracked on into the darkness.

The cavern went on long enough, went deep enough and with enough twists and turns that Ford considered calling the whole thing off, and perhaps coming back another time. He had a watch, but it most have broken sometime during the chase earlier. When he had tried to read it, the various hands had ticked backwards and forwards without rhyme or reason, flickering spastically across the numbers. But then, the curving hall straightened out, opened out into a dead end, and there, finally, was a carven figure on the wall, encircled by inscriptions.

His heart leapt in his throat as he gazed at the relic, that sick and nostalgic feeling swimming in his head again. Had he been here before? No, impossible. But it all seemed so familiar – painfully so. Ford came closer to the carvings, traced the three sided figure in the middle of them all with one finger. Slowly stitching together the ancient writing, he identified the incantation – _to bring forth a one-eyed being of infinite answers_ – and clumsily recited it, his voice echoing off into the empty depths of the cave.

And… nothing. Ford could have sworn that the central figure – _a triangle? the all-seeing eye?_ – had briefly glowed with its own power, but it was nothing more than a trick of the light. He hung around the ritual chamber for as long as he could stand, sketching out the room and its symbols, before finally admitting defeat and retracing his steps, making the long trek back out towards open sky. By the time he had reached the surface again, the sunset had fully set, the forest garbed in long, draping shadows, and Ford was exhausted.

Would Fidds and Stan be worried about him? They should be used to him going off on his own by now. Ford made it back to small clearing with the eerie trees before giving in, settling himself against the trunk of one of them. Sleeping in the middle of a forest wasn’t exactly what he would call a good idea, and that was even ignoring the fact that he _knew_ there was some kind of monster lurking nearby. Even so, he felt tired – almost abnormally so – and he fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Ford somehow knew he was asleep, but he felt so alert, so strangely in control that the effect was almost disconcerting. Around him stretched the starry expanse of the universe, and he unconsciously mapped out the familiar star signs and constellations, recognizing the patterns from nights he had spent on sandy beaches with Stanley, staring up at the skies and dreaming, before-

Before what? He frowned, puzzled. Before… something. Something had pulled them apart. But that made no sense – after all, Stan had followed him all the way to Gravity Falls, a hick town in the middle of almost literally nowhere.

“HIYA, SMART GUY!” A perky voice jolted him out of his reveries, and even more surprisingly, confusingly, it seemed to be coming from… a glowing triangle, which flickered with every word. His shock must have been written all over his face, because the yellow figure let out a piercing laugh, zooming close to hover in circles around him. “Hey, don’t go having a HEART ATTACK – you’re not 92 YET!”

Ford’s mouth hung open, shut, dropped open again. What did one say to a sentient geometric figure? “I… what?”

“STANFORD PINES, am I right? What am I saying, OF COURSE I’m right!” 

“…What?” 

The triangle sighed – it sighed, a triangle sighed at him, what the hell – and ceased its dizzying movements. “You’re confused, I know, but you SHOULDN’T BE – you’re the one that SUMMONED ME HERE after all!” 

Something finally clicked in Ford’s mind. “You… the inscriptions?”

“YUP! I know, those DECREPIT OLD WALL CARVINGS hardly do me JUSTICE! Name’s Bill Cipher!”

Bill Cipher? The name seemed oddly plain for a facet of the Eye of Knowledge and bizarrely current for the supposed age of the dated messages left in the stone walls of the cavern. Perhaps this was nothing more than a vivid, if outlandish, dream. Well, if it was his own mind, there could be no harm in playing along. And on the off chance that this was something truly supernatural going on, Ford wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass by. 

“Bill Cipher? It’s… a pleasure to meet to you?” Ford held out his hand to the triangle, to Bill, but the being scooted back, waving its own small, black hands.

“Whoa whoa, don’t go getting AHEAD of YOURSELF there, IQ! Coming on a little STRONG if you know what I mean!”

Ford flushed – could he really blush in his own dream? – and let his hand drop. Despite its earlier words, the triangle immediately invaded his personal space, floating by his side and leaning its slight weight against his shoulder. Even in a dream, even through the layers of clothing on his body, Bill felt blazingly hot, crackling with energy. 

“No need to get EMBARASSED, this isn’t NEARLY as bad as the time you TRIPPED over your own GRADUATION ROBES!” Ford let out a groan, covering his face with his hands. Was this just his subconscious toying with him? “Now now, why don’t you CALM those RACING THOUGHTS and let ME do the TALKING! HERE, why don’t we RELAX a little!”

A chess board, glowing and translucent, shimmered to life in front of him, and Ford fell into what was perhaps the most comfortable chair he’d ever experienced in his life. The little triangle – _Bill, Bill Cipher_ – had blinked out of existence next to his shoulder, instead appeared across the board, settled in its own armchair. Did mathematical figures need creature comforts like furniture? The whole situation was perplexing, but he tried to do as Bill asked, tried to calm himself and his constantly questioning mind. 

“I’m not a FIGURE of your IMAGINATION – though I HAVE to say, yours is as INVENTIVE and CREATIVE an imagination as I’ve SEEN – but you want HARD PROOF! Well, you’ll get it when you WAKE UP, assuming you do one thing for me.” As Cipher spoke, he swirled one pitch black finger in the air, a set of teacups and their matching kettle popping into existence over his hand. Once one was filled, it floated over to Ford, bobbing on an unseen current. Despite Bill’s hospitality and friendliness, Ford felt himself go slightly on edge. Do something for him?

“What is it you’re wanting me to do?” 

“Listen, we BOTH want the same thing!” Ford stared, unabashed, as Bill’s eye winked and transformed seamlessly into a mouth, sipping at his tea. The scientist’s own tea was left forgotten in his hand, poised halfway to his mouth. “You’re HUNTING the MONSTERS of GRAVITY FALLS, and having some TROUBLE with it, right?”

At that, Ford perked up. “I- Yes, that’s exactly right! Do you know what they are? Why can’t I find them? How do they keep escaping?” 

“Hey, hey, ONE QUESTION at a TIME!” Bill chided him gently, sounding more amused than scornful. “I KNOW what they are, all right! Spirits, or DEMONS – manifestations of that force you HUMANS know as EVIL! As you are RIGHT NOW, you can’t SEE THEM, can’t TOUCH THEM – shouldn’t even be able to HEAR THEM, but you’re EXCEPTIONAL among your SPECIES!” 

Ford’s head was reeling, thoughts chasing themselves in dizzying loops. Demons? Spirits? He was supposed to believe all this? 

“You’re got your DOUBTS, Fordsy, and I LIKE THAT about you!” Bill left his seat, floated through the chessboard that dissipated into smoke at his touch. “But here’s the THING – we BOTH want those things gone, and NEITHER of us can do it WITHOUT the OTHER!” 

Frowning, Ford stayed quiet for a moment, chewing over Bill’s words. The triangle needed him? “What are you proposing?” 

“Just a little DEAL – a PARTNERSHIP, even! I’ll LEND you some of my POWER – it’ll allow you to DEAL with these creatures on EQUAL FOOTING! And I’ll even come along to HELP YOU get the HANG of it!”

“So what do you want in return?”

Bill’s eye curved in what Ford was sure, somehow, was a smile. It sent a shiver up his spine. “You just have to PROMISE ME that you’ll DESTROY THEM, Sixer!” 

Destroy them? The thought made Ford blanch. He wanted to find and document new species, that much was true; to study them and their ways, but to destroy them? He wasn’t sure he was up for that kind of task. Who was he to say what should live or die?

“I don’t know, Bill…”

“I understand your CONCERNS, Ford, I do! But TRUST ME, these things are BAD NEWS! You’ve SEEN the DAMAGE they LEAVE BEHIND, and that’s just the PHYSICAL EFFECTS!” Bill’s body suddenly lit up, flickering like a film on an old projector. Images of people, crying alone, standing at funerals, of accidents, of sickness, abandoned homes and dreams. “They SPREAD PAIN and SUFFERING like a PLAGUE, PROPRAGATING themselves through the MISERY of HUMANS. You can even use your NEWS REPORTS like a MAP to FIND THEM!”

The triangle flashed back to yellow, and he made a fist in the air to his side and yanked it down. Above it, a map unfurled as though Bill had unrolled it. It was a map of Oregon, and black dots began speckling across it, becoming more and more closely clumped together as they neared the epicenter of Gravity Falls.

“ACCIDENTS, SUICIDES, VIOLENT CRIMES, CHILDREN CHEATING ON STANDARDIZED TESTING – ALL of it INCREASES the CLOSER you get to good old GRAVITY FALLS!”

Ford leaned forward in his chair, studying the map. At least this was a piece of information he could verify with his own research. Still, it seemed a tad farfetched, and what was that last one? Where was he supposed to get statistics about children _cheating_ , of all things? 

“And you’re saying these… demons are the cause of it all?”

“That’s EXACTLY what I’m saying!” Bill tugged on the bottom of the map and it rolled itself up again, blipping out of existence. “But I’m ALSO saying that you’re the only human around that can STOP THEM! I don’t APPEAR to just ANYONE who comes TRAIPSING into my CAVE!” 

“I’m the only one?” The idea made him uneasy, nervous, but there was something appealing about it too.

“You got it! You’ve got NATURAL TALENT – it’s why you were able to SUMMON ME in the FIRST place! I can’t just give my MAGIC to any old SHMUCK, they wouldn’t be able to USE IT!” Bill came even closer, placed a hand on each of Ford’s cheeks. The triangle’s dark skin was surprisingly cool in comparison to the flickering heat of his body. “I haven’t seen a MIND like YOURS in a long, long time.” 

Ford shifted in his seat slightly. “I have one more question, Bill.”

“’COURSE you do, CHAMP!” 

“Why can’t you just deal with these things yourself?” After all, if he was going to be borrowing Bill’s power to deal with them anyway what was the sense of playing middleman?

“Well I can’t INTERFERE with your world DIRECTLY like the SPIRITS can! I’m stuck on the METAPHYSICAL side for all intents and purposes! I’ll be able to MANIFEST around you while you’re using my POWERS but otherwise I’m TRAPPED here in the dreamscape!” Bill’s hands finally dropped from his face, but one snaked down to tap against Ford’s sternum. “But REALLY, you should think of my MAGIC as a LOANER – it should be JUST ENOUGH to get your OWN MAGIC cranking!”

“My own…?”

“Now LISTEN, I hate to cut our CHAT short – I KNOW how important FIRST IMPRESSIONS ARE – but that BEASTY you were TANGLING with EARLIER is starting to SNIFF AROUND your BODY!” Ford shot to his feet, narrowly missing head-butting Bill as the triangle floated backward. 

“It’s _here_?! I have to go! I have to wake up! I have to-” _CAN’T SLEEP, CAN’T SLEEP, CAN’T SLEEP._

“Hey, CALM DOWN, Sixer!” This time, when Bill touched him – gently now, like he was a startled cat – Ford flinched bodily. Where had that thought come from? Can’t sleep? “You can WAKE UP whenever you WANT to – you’re on the VERGE of it now, even! But if you go out there AS YOU ARE that thing’ll just GET AWAY again – OR WORSE, it could really HURT YOU!” Bill actually sounded quite concerned. And he had a good point. Ford had no weapons on him, aside from a flashlight and some pens, and despite the old adage, he would much rather have a sword in this particular instance if he was supposed to face down a demon.

“All right.”

“All right?”

“I’ll do it!” Ford declared. Bill looked briefly surprised, then incredibly happy, and he even threw his little arms in the air, confetti flying from the tips of his fingers. Ford found himself grinning in return. Then his eye flared bright, burning blue and Bill extended his hand, wreathed in flames of the same color.

“IT’S A **DEAL** THEN, PARTNER!”

Without hesitation, Ford clasped Bill’s outstretched hand. The fire licked at and tickled his skin. 

“It’s a deal!”

With that, Ford found himself abruptly awake, utterly alone in the strange glade. He didn’t feel any different at all, save for an aching back from having slept against a tree. Was it all just a dream? If he had just made a deal with a supernatural being he would expect something to be different, to feel more powerful or capable, or… something, anything! It had seemed too real, and unlike most dreams, he could remember every second of it. A low groan issued out of the woods to his side, the sound of a tree bending, bending, and finally snapping, splintering. The monster! The _demon_! He’d forgotten all about it!

Ford scrambled to his feet, and something slid off his chest, landed heavily among the thick, dark grass of the clearing. What was that? He knelt back down, searched through the long blades of grass until his fingers ran across something oddly smooth and sharp. Pulling it up to eye level, Ford tried to examine the object. It was difficult to see it clearly in the dark, but it appeared to be a triangle – _of course it was_ \- with perhaps some sort of gem embedded in the middle, serving as an eye.

His heart leapt – it hadn’t just been a dream! This was incredible, unbelievable! His elation was cut short by another crashing sound nearby, one of the pale and slender trees falling to the ground. Even if it had been real, even if he had some of Bill’s power now, the being hadn’t exactly told him how to use it. Ford got to his feet again. If he was going to die to this spirit, this demon, this whatever-it-was, it wasn’t going to be on his knees. His hands clenched into fists, his right hand squeezing hard around the small triangle in his hand, and the clearing was suddenly lit up in a gold, gleaming light.

It all seemed to be emanating from his fist, and Ford held his right hand in front of his chest, opening it try and peer at the now almost blinding pendant. When released, the golden triangle floated before him, and Ford felt a sudden surge of power flood into his body. Everything seemed white hot, like electricity jumping through his body, burning ribbons wrapping around his flesh, and just as quickly as it began, it stopped again, the light slowly fading.

“HIYA Sixer! LOOKIN’ GOOD!” Ford startled, glancing to his side. Bill was there, looking as chipper as ever, his body providing the only light in the dark forest. Looking good? Why would he say that? But Ford felt different, and looked down, and wished the ground would swallow him whole, and maybe he should just run into the jaws of whatever demon was hunting him.

“B-Bill! What the hell?! I wasn’t- I wasn’t wearing this!” For some reason, he was desperate for the triangle to know that Ford hadn’t dressed himself this way. Everything was tight – far too tight – and colorful, and surprisingly floofy, a huge bow on his chest that held the gold pendant in its center, and was he wearing shorts!? _Why God?_

“I KNOW! I thought a COSTUME CHANGE might be FUN! You know, make this moment REALLY special! Even your GLASSES look cooler!” Cooler? Oh god, Ford did not want to see his face right now. “I LIKE IT, Sixer! Those BOOTS really EMPHASIZE your CALVES!” Ford wanted to die. “Okay, okay, I’m getting the feeling you don’t LIKE IT, but we’ll have to time to TALK SHOP later! Right now you might wanna deal with THAT GUY!” Bill pointed to the edge of the clearing where something unnatural was coiling its long body around the trees, claws scratching at the bark.

As the costume had been, this demon was surprisingly colorful – none of this was going exactly as Ford might have thought it would. Its snakelike body was painted with splotches and stripes of clashing colors, loud enough that they actually hurt to look at. It had spindly white arms and legs located seemingly at random, all ending in reptilian hands and feet equipped with long, curving claws. The demon’s head popped up over the trees, snakelike but as garishly colored as the rest of its body.

“I don’t think it’s SPOTTED US YET!” At the triangle’s loud, obnoxious words, the demon’s head turned straight towards them. Ford swore he saw it raise an eyebrow. “HEY, maybe its VISION is BASED on MOVEMENT! If. We. Stay. Very. Still.-” Bill didn’t get to finish his stilted sentence as the creature suddenly lunged towards them. Ford grabbed the triangle in one hand, ignoring Bill’s indignant shout and leapt away, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of the demon, startled when his jump launched him high into the air.

It was exhilarating on the way up, but Ford reached the apex of his jump and realized he was about to go crashing that same distance all the way to the ground. Bill wiggled out of his grasp somehow, floated in the air next to him.

“You’re about to start FALLING, right?”

Ford couldn’t answer as gravity finally set in, but he only fell a few inches before long, dark arms hooked under his own, dragging him back up. He stared up at the triangle in shock.

“Look, I don’t wanna be DOING THIS all the time, okay? This is a ONE TIME RIDE until you FIGURE OUT how to fly! It’s not even that HARD! Just think of really LIGHT THINGS, like feathers and BUBBLES and that fancy WHIPPED YOGURT stuff!” It was hard to think of anything just now, as the demon launched itself into the sky after them, its head bursting through the canopy in a spray of leaves. Bill just hauled Ford up higher, and Ford yelped, lifting his legs up as the monster’s jaws clamped shut just centimeters below him, the creature slowly falling back down to the earth. Bill was laughing. “What a MORON!” 

“W-What are we going to do about that thing?” Ford stared down at the rustling trees below them, his whole body swaying up and down as Bill shrugged.

“Well, you gotta go down there SOMETIME and deal with it! Whoa, HEAD’S UP, LITERALLY!” Bill laughed and jerked Ford up again as the beast threw itself up a second time, howling in rage and frustration. “Man, this THING is REALLY as DUMB as it LOOKS!”

“You know, maybe taunting a literal _demon_ isn’t a good idea, Bill,” Ford offered. “How exactly am I supposed to ‘deal with’ that?” He grit his teeth as his answer was another shrug.

“How you USE my power – and how YOUR OWN MANIFESTS – is up to you! The SKY’S the LIMIT, pal!” Bill casually threw Ford into the air, catching him bridal style on the way down. This was the most bizarre, humiliating day Ford had experienced yet in life. “What do you say? Ready to go DOWN THERE and TEACH that DEMON a LESSON?”

“I-”

The monster interrupted them again, once more surging up from the dark forest. Bill started laughing at it, his eyehole switching to a mouth to blow a raspberry at the beast. This time, however, the demon’s tongue lashed out, long and prehensile, and looped itself around Ford’s ankle, yanking the man out of Bill’s arms and dragging him down the ground with it.

“I BELIEVE IN YOU!” Bill called after him, and Ford lost sight of him soon after as he and the monster crashed back through the canopy.

They both hit the trees hard, the shock of the impact loosening the thing’s tongue and setting Ford free. Branches broke under his weight as he tumbled through the trees, their splinters scratching at his exposed skin. Why, oh why, had Bill thought short – _short_ – pants and a sleeveless shirt was the proper attire for monster fighting? Ford hit the ground hard, knocked breathless but feeling better than he suspected he should for having fallen god knows how far. 

He barely had a chance to get to his feet before the demon was charging forth through the underbrush. It paused before him, rearing its head up like a cobra, long mouth open as it practically screeched at him. Besides the coloring, size, and unnatural limb placement, it actually looked pretty normal now that Ford had a chance to examine it. Its head shot forward, and split vertically down the middle, the four sides of its face unfurling like a particularly disgusting and sharp-toothed flower. Ford could see all the way down its gullet, a long dark hole collared with painful looking spikes.

He promptly turned and ran from the beast, though judging by its roars and the near constant din of shattering trees, it was staying right behind. Think, think, he just needed time to think. Why hadn’t Bill just taught him how to use all this damn power he supposedly had? Instead, the triangle had just prattled on about _nothing_ , about _yogurt_. Bill had said something about how his powers manifested, didn’t he? That it was up to him?

His mind immediately conjured up images of _Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons_ , of the mage character Ford so often played, and the air around his hands started shimmering, tingling. Ford slid to a halt, turned his palms up to examine what was happening to them, and a staff materialized above them. He almost wished it hadn’t. It was long and slender, the shaft white with twining lines of pink and gold circling it. At its head, the two lines became fluffy white wings arching off to either side, and in the middle, _oh god_ , was a rose in full bloom, a glistening gemstone nestled in the center of its petals.

Oh, he and Bill were _definitely_ going to have a chat after this. There was no time now for Ford to curl up in a ball and wither away of mortification. He had a weapon, he had inexplicable magic powers at his command, and the only thing left to do was send this demon back to whatever Technicolor hell it had clawed its way out of it. Ford whirled around, holding the staff diagonally across his body just in time for the monster to surge forth from the darkness, mouth opened to consume him, inhuman wails echoing in his ears. 

“Hold monster!” He shouted the first spell that came to mind, aiming the embellished head of his staff directly at the demon. It was quite a high level spell, and Ford wasn’t even sure he would be able to use it, but there was a great gush of wind as the gem of his stave lit brightly and the monster froze, hanging suspended in the middle of its lunge. Beneath its strange, smooth skin, Ford could see the creature’s muscles shuddering spastically as it struggled in his magical hold. 

With the demon immobilized, Ford dared to edge closer to it. Maybe he would have time to sketch it, examine it in detail? Not that there was room for pockets or a notebook in this getup. He reached out cautiously, running a hand against the demon’s flesh. It whined menacingly in response. The colors of its skin appeared to be constantly shifting, a brash kaleidoscope. In the corner of his eye, Ford saw movement, looked down its elongated body to see its tail twitching, some of its back limbs feebly kicking. It didn’t look like his spell was going to hold much longer.

“Scorching ray!” Ford was silently thankful for all the long nights he and Fiddleford had spent playing his favorite game. He would have to be sure to rub this in Stanley’s face afterwards. The monster howled and writhed as its body went up in flames, and even through his excitement and satisfaction, Ford felt a little bad for the beast. It burned for longer than he would have thought, and it seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the blaze until all at once the fire went out, and Ford saw something small and white fall from the air into the bushes.

The quiet that fell over the woods felt strange. Ford held his staff loosely in one hand, walking over to the bushes and crouching down, searching for whatever had dropped at the beast’s demise. He had the thought that this would be easier with a bit of light, and the gem began shining once more, casting a pink light around the area. Oh. Maybe he didn’t have to say the spells out loud. 

“Nicely DONE, Fordsy! I KNEW you could DO IT!” The triangle seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, shoving a hand in his hair and ruffling it affectionately. A smile broke out on Ford’s face. Whatever misgivings he might have had slowly lessened. He had done it. And if everything else Bill had said so far had been true, that meant that this creature must have been a demon, had been causing pain and destruction for its own purposes, and deserved its pathetic end. Bill was smiling too, before he floated closer to look at where Ford had been previously searching.

“Oh, it looked like it dropped something,” Ford said in explanation.

“YEAH, they’ll DO THAT!” The two of them shifted through the tangled roots and brush for a few moments, before Ford spotted a flash of white. 

“There it is!” His hand shot forward and he found himself holding a tiny albino lizard, wriggling frantically between his fingers. He briefly squeezed it until it went limp, panting, and then he held it up for Bill to inspect. “What is it?”

“Lemme see it,” Bill said, holding out one small hand. Ford deposited the little creature in Bill’s hand, and the triangle held the thing dangling between two fingers, pulling it close to his eye and peering at it. And then he closed his eye, opening it again as a mouth and dropping the creature in.

“Bill! What the hell!” The triangle laughed at Ford’s outraged tone.

“Relax, Sixer! I just BANISHED it back to its PLANE of EXISTENCE!”

“Why did it look like you were _eating_ it then?”

“Oh, I thought it would be FUNNY!” Bill flicked Ford’s nose, but his limbs drooped guiltily when the frown didn’t fade from the man’s face. “Okay, okay, I won’t DO THAT again! But they’ve GOTTA GO somehow!” 

Ford sighed, standing up straight. “So, that was a demon?”

“Yup! A LESSER ONE, but a DEMON all the same! It was SIPHONING off CHILDREN’S HOPES and DREAMS, hence the, ahem, COLORFUL nature!” With how brightly, forcefully yellow Bill himself was colored, Ford thought the triangle hardly had room to talk. “I meant what I SAID, you managed that QUITE WELL! I’m IMPRESSED! Not many HUMANS could pull that off!” Ford shifted slightly from side to side but he was smiling again. The triangle drifted downwards, running a finger against one of the numerous small cuts covering Ford’s legs. “You MAY have a POINT about that OUTFIT though – I forget how FRAGILE your skin can be!”

Whatever Bill was, he clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space. Ford felt hot from his collar bones to his ears, and he reached down, dropping his staff and gently grabbing the triangle’s bottom angles, pulling him up him. Here in the physical world, Bill didn’t feel as scaldingly hot as he’d felt when they met. And he just looked so happy, it was kind of infectious.

“Maybe something a little less flashy next time,” Ford suggested. He let go of the triangle but Bill stayed hovering close by, tapping a finger against his front surface like he was considering the man’s request. “And pants. Pants are a must.”

“If you say so~” Bill singsonged in reply. It wasn’t very comforting. Ford wanted to argue more, but he was struck with a sudden wave of dizziness. His limbs felt like lead. Belatedly, he realized Bill’s hands were on his shoulders, holding him steady. “Getting a little SLEEPY there, Sixer?”

“Yes, exhausted, actually.” His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

“You EXPENDED a lot of ENERGY there – flashy SPELLS make for quick work but they DRAIN you pretty THOROUGHLY! I’m honestly SURPRISED you’re still standing!” Bill laughed as Ford suddenly wavered on his feet, knees starting to buckle. “WHOA, maybe I SPOKE too SOON! All right, let’s just get you back to that FANCY WOODEN SHACK of yours, huh?” For the second time that day – maybe even that hour – Ford found himself scooped up, Bill carrying him high over the treetops.

“I thought you said it was a one-time ride,” Ford reminded him. Bill glared at him in return.

“Hey, don’t MAKE me drop you! This is ONLY because I don’t want you doing something DUMB and HUMAN like DYING OF EXPOSURE in the middle of the WOODS!” Mortifying position aside, it was kind of nice. Bill was warm, and when Ford closed his eyes the brightness of his body was soothing, reminded him of resting outside on a summer’s day. It felt like only seconds later that Bill was shaking him awake, probably about as gently as the triangle was capable of doing anything. They were still in the woods, but through the trees Ford could see the lights of the shack. Bill carefully set him on his feet. “Well, this is the END of the LINE! You don’t have to GO HOME but you CAN’T STAY HERE!”

That seemed like a reference to something, but it went over Ford’s head. “Thank you, Bill.” He looked down at his clothing, the ridiculous and now banged up outfit still in place. “Uh, how do I…?”

“Oh! Just take that BROOCH thingy off!” Bill tapped the golden triangle on Ford’s chest. “But I can ONLY manifest here PHYSICALLY when it’s ACTIVE, so I guess it’s GOODBYE for now!”

“Oh.” Ford felt strangely disappointed.

“Least you’ll be back in your BORING, NORMAL clothes, right?” Bill blinked at him rather forcefully, and Ford wondered if that was supposed to have been a wink. “Either WAY, GOOD JOB TODAY, PARTNER!”

“Please, Bill, call me a friend.” The triangle’s eye curved in a delighted grin. 

“You got it, pal!”

Ford removed the pendant – _it wasn’t a brooch_ \- watching as Bill slowly faded away like a mirage. If it wasn’t for the complete exhaustion and heavy golden triangle in his hand, Ford would have believed it all a dream. He shoved the badge into his pocket and headed toward the shack, wondering what the hell he was going to tell Fidds and Stanley.


End file.
